To Remember, To Hope

November 2009

by Julie K. Aageson

So much of the time, we live in those fragile places where the ordinary events of life are juxtaposed against disappointments, anxiety, worry, loss. Whether we’re wrestling with the usual challenges or dealing with truly earth-shattering events and issues that are causes for deep despair, we all know the necessity of hope.

Without hope, spirits are broken. Without hope, dreams are crushed. Without hope, people die.

In the words of the poet Emily Dickinson, “Hope is the thing with feath­ers/That perches in the soul/And sings the tune without the words/And never stops—at all.” Hope is not negotiable; it’s an integral part of health and wholeness. For people of faith, hope is a basic tenet of Christianity and a central theme of salvation history to be celebrated and shared. The great theologian Reinhold Niebuhr called prayer the ultimate form of hope.

On occasions when grief and sorrow seem overwhelming and hope is elusive, I often listen to Marty Haugen’s haunt­ing lament in Turn My Heart (book and CD by Marty Haugen and Susan Briehl, GIA Publications, 2003). It’s a compila­tion of music, biblical texts, poetry, and prayers that echo our deepest fears, the moments when hope seems to slip through our fingers.

Briehl and Haugen share psalms of lament and hymns that resonate with longing for the God of life, the God of hope. They speak of weeping and deso­lation, brokenness, despair. And in the midst of such darkness, they recall God’s presence at other times of suffering and sorrow. They remind us that in order to hope, we must remember.

And so we’re drawn back to Babylon and God’s people in exile. We remember Noah and his family nearly overcome with destruction and overwhelmed by disaster. With Ruth and Naomi, we confront the obstacles of life and reclaim the gift of hope. We journey with Jesus in the darkness of Good Friday knowing that the cross isn’t the end of the story, that new life and Easter resurrection are on the other side. Our God is a God of hope and we claim these stories that bear hope in the midst of hopelessness. We are people in exile. We are Noah’s fam­ily and all the animals, huddled together on a crowded, stinking ark. We are Ruth and Naomi . . .

And in remembering, we see the mercy of God everywhere, the presence of the Holy One woven into the very fabric of our lives. Over all is the rain­bow, that ribbon of hope that bears the promise of deliverance. Under our feet is the solid wood of the ark. Above our heads, hope is the thing with feathers, the dove bearing a branch and perching in our souls.

As Paul writes in Romans 15:13, “May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing, so that you may abound in hope.”

Julie K. Aageson is coordinator of ELCA Resource Centers and director of the Resource Center for the Eastern North Dakota Synod.